


In the name of being brave (though it's just another word for being afraid)

by anidorikiladra



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:40:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22365763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anidorikiladra/pseuds/anidorikiladra
Summary: A collection of snippets from Robert's sessions with his counselor and conversations with loved ones about his childhood (mostly childhood trauma) and his mental health.
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 11
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Robert's sessions in this fic are informed by my own experiences in therapy, but it may not fit others' experiences with counseling. A lot of what he talks about will have explicit basis in canon, but some of it is my own speculation/additions. If anybody wants to know if something I reference is from the show or not, feel free to ask!

“And we never talked about it again. That’s it, I suppose.” Robert could feel his counselor’s eyes on him as he watched his own thumb move over his hand.

“Was that the only time your father beat you?” Counselors must be magic, really, to be able to say something like that with a straight face, in the most neutral tone. There was somehow nothing accusatory in her words, but Robert felt himself tensing up anyway.

“He wasn’t like that!” he looked Therese in the eye now, needed her to see the sincerity in his eyes. “It wasn’t his…he wasn’t a bad man. He just didn’t want a son like me.”

Therese was silent for a moment. She looked like she was trying to decide what to say, and every second Robert felt more and more like bolting.

Until finally, “It seems like it means a lot to you to preserve your father’s memory, protect his legacy maybe?”

“No I—look, he was a good dad, a good husband, a single father more than once, I don’t want you thinking he’s some kind of, of monster or something.”

“I hear that, but to be honest, Robert, your father isn’t the one I’m interested in.”

Robert felt his brow crease, and Therese smiled kindly as she explained, “We’re not here for some referendum on your dad. I never met him, after all. And I’m not here to judge him, or you. We’re here because your dad hurt you—or to put it another way, because you experienced a lot of trauma related to your father.”

That still felt dramatic, calling it trauma, but every time Therese said it the word fit a little more comfortably, felt a little more real. His counselor must know that, given just how often, and how gently she used it. 

“Your dad may have been more than what we talk about in this room—or we may even talk about the good memories you shared with him. But your job isn’t to protect your father from someone who’s never even going to meet him. Right here, in this room, your job is to heal. And that means talking about the ways that he hurt you and that’s okay. You’re allowed to do that.”

“I’m just not-I’m not even sure I can do that. Talk about it, I mean.” Robert was so used to biting his tongue—he did it practically every day, for Victoria, for Diane. It would break their hearts to hear the truth, if they believed Robert at all. “I know we’ve talked about the stuff with Andy, but this…”

“Have you not told anyone else?” 

“Just Aaron. Right before we got engaged. He didn’t understand why I stayed in the closet so long, even after the whole village knew about me and him. The affair and that.” Therese nodded, and Robert was grateful they’d gone over that timeline already—all those years he’d spent afraid of himself, lashing out at the people he loved most, it wasn’t something he liked to remember. Meeting Aaron was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and their affair was a gift that Robert couldn't bring himself to feel guilt over. But Robert couldn't even think about all the pain he'd put Aaron through in the first years they'd known each other. If Robert let himself sit in the knowledge of how deeply he'd hurt Aaron, how low Robert had been willing to go to protect his sham of a 'perfect' life, the shame would destroy him. But, as Aaron himself had reminded him, Robert had to take this one session at a time. They'd have so much time to talk about those dark early days. Right now, Robert had to focus on his dad, even if that was the last thing Robert wanted to think about. It all came back to his dad anyway, one way or another.

“Did it feel good to tell Aaron?”

“Yeah. Felt good, to say. To finally had somebody who knows. And that I could trust Aaron with this, and know he wouldn't turn away or go around telling everyone. Aaron loves me anyway. It wasn't all good though. I know it’s stupid, but I felt bad…guilty, I guess, too. Aaron didn’t really know Dad, but he thought well of him. Dunno how he feels about him now, though.”

“Well, now, let’s not call it stupid, it’s what you feel.” 

“Right.” Robert was still getting the hang of that. 

“That's alright. So you and Aaron still don’t talk about your dad much?”

“Not really, no. I mean, I told him not to tell Diane or Vic, or anyone, really. And like I said it’s—hard.”

“To talk about it.”

“Right, yeah.”

“And you told him not to tell your family because…?”

“Dad meant the world to Vic. To both of them, actually. But Vic especially…she didn’t have enough time with him. I don’t want to take the memories too.”

“We’ll definitely circle back to that, okay? But can you tell me why it’s so difficult to speak to Aaron about this, after you told him? It’s okay if you don’t know why.”

“No, it’s-“ Robert shook his head, trying to arrange the words in a way that made sense. “I mean, there’s a lot. It’s just a lot, you know?” The words stumbled out of his mouth.

Therese tilted her head, her mouth slightly open for a second before she admitted, “I don’t, sorry, could you go a few steps back for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I…” Even as the words formed in his head, Robert could feel half of himself trying to push them away. All of these thoughts were supposed to stay small and quiet in the back of his mind because if they ever came out, if the words ever actually left his mouth Robert didn’t know how he’d handle it. For all the venom Robert had ever spewed about his father, to Andy and Katie and Diane, for all he’d slagged him off to friends and even to his dad’s own face, this felt like a betrayal. Being in this room at all felt like a betrayal. And that probably wasn’t good, was it?

Robert nearly bottled it, but then Aaron’s face flashed in his mind. His husband, sat in the waiting room metres away, willing to spend an hour in a plastic chair so Robert didn’t have to face this alone. Robert thought of Liv, his little sort-of sister, who always pretended to be tough and cold but needed so much love she was afraid and ashamed to ask for. He wanted to show her that they could do this. That they could open up and it would be okay. He wanted Seb to grow up with a father that could put his wonderful, sweet, brilliant son before himself. Robert wanted to be the kind of parent his children could rely on, the kind of father that didn’t end up pushing his own issues onto his kids. And goddammit, he wanted to be happy. Robert wanted to be the type of person that deserved to be happy.

Robert gulped, realizing he was gripping his knuckles white. He forced his hands to loosen, staring at his own fingers twisting to and fro until his breath evened. “My dad didn’t believe in counseling,” he blurted, louder than he intended. 

It clearly wasn’t what his counselor expected, but she rolled with it. “He didn’t?”

“No,” Robert said, a bitter laugh bubbling up in his throat, “he really, really didn’t like it. Encourages people to be traumatized, he’d say, like that made any sense. He didn’t like cry-babies, people who don’t really deserve to be broken.” 

“Robert,” Therese said gently, “you know that’s not true, don’t you?” 

“I don’t know.” His eyes were welling up suddenly, and fuck, Robert hadn’t cried in years. Not like this, anyway. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt tears roll down his face. And then somehow he was crying about crying, about missing how it felt. He was so pathetic. How fucking sad. And which was worse? A grown man crying, or a grown man who didn’t know how to cry? He didn’t even know. 

But pathetic or not, weak or not, Robert was here. He was finally here, in this room he'd been avoiding for most of his life. If all Robert did for the rest of the hour was sit right here and bawl his eyes out like a little kid, so be it. He was here, and that was enough. Enough for today, anyway. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These ficlets aren't going to be super structured, they'll be pretty freeform. My excuse is that counseling sessions usually get off track pretty quickly

“It just makes me feel so guilty to talk about Dad like that. Even telling Aaron…he had to know, he deserved to know with how desperate I was to believe I was straight. Even after everyone already knew.” Robert could hear the derision in his voice, and he knew his counselor was going to interrupt before she even opened her mouth. 

“Lots of people are just like you were, Robert. You believed what you had to to accept yourself. It wasn’t sustainable, no, and it ended up hurting you—”

“And a lot of other people,” Robert muttered. He could practically see Katie’s eyes staring up at him from that dark pit. 

“Yes,” Therese said gently, “you and other people too. But we have to unravel where that fear came from to understand how you felt and acted during those years. It was a huge portion of your life, yes?”

“Fifteen years, give or take.” Half his life, he’d been terrified of himself for half his life. 

“That’s a long time.” That was an understatement. “And it started so young. You were afraid of who you were at a time when you were just trying to develop your own sense of identity. It only makes sense that you’d try to create an identity in opposition to that fear.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t erase what I did though.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it’s valuable to know why you did what you did, Robert.”

“Why?” Robert gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “It doesn’t bring her back, I can’t take back what I did to Aaron. All the horrible things I said to him, they’re gonna be there in the back of his mind forever now and nothing will erase them.” _Weak, pathetic, worthless._

“There are things that can soften their edge, though. Time, for one. You changing yourself for the better, like you already have. Communicating with him. Loving him. Aaron won’t forget what you’ve said but you can paint over those marks with a million happy memories. And you tell him what you really feel about him every day, I know that.”

Robert couldn’t help but smile at that. His husband always said he was a sap. _Strong, fit, my beautiful husband who I love._ Robert could only say those words with all the love in his heart, and hope that in the end these words were the ones that stuck. 

“And knowing why you said those things can’t erase them, Robert, no, but it can help in other ways. It can help you figure out how you got to that place so that you never get there again. And it can help you understand what you tend to do under stress, and _why._ ”

“I hurt people. That’s what I do ‘under stress.’ It doesn’t matter why.” He spit the words like venom.

“Yes it does, Robert.” Therese’s voices was firm this time. “There are lots of people who refuse to take accountability for what they’ve done. Those people need to face up to their actions, no matter why they did it. You’ve been that person in the past, maybe, but that’s not who’s sitting in front of me now. What the man I see needs right now is compassion.” Robert shook his head, but Therese pressed, “Have you ever tried to feel compassion for the person you were then?”

Robert scoffed. “I barely like who I am now. I think loving the bastard I was then is a tall order, Therese.”

“Maybe. But you’ve always done what you had to do to survive, that’s what you've told me. Is that accurate, do you think?”

“Yeah,” Robert admitted.

“Well, then, think of this as one more of those things. It really is, if you think about it. This guilt is killing you, Robert, and you need to live, for the people you love if nothing else. Whether or not you feel you deserve to. That’s why you’re here, right?”

“Right,” Robert enunciated, breathing stiffly. 

“Then?”

He ground his knuckles into closed eyes. Therese gave him the space to look for a way out, and find none. Robert couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. He was snapping at Aaron again, pushing him away before Aaron could leave. Pushing everyone away. Waiting for them to toss him away like he deserved. But the look on Aaron’s face when he saw the bags under Robert’s eyes, Liv’s too-casual expression as she tiptoed around him like he’d break—this wasn’t just affecting him. If forgiving the man who’d hurt them before would keep Robert from hurting them again, he’d have to try. Even if it seemed impossible. 

“I’ll try, okay? I’ll try.”


	3. Chapter 3

Leaves fell from the trees outside as Robert sat down for another session. It was shocking how long he’d been seeing his counselor. Robert never thought he’d be able to make it through a whole session, let alone six weeks worth. But he had, and it was finally beginning to pay off. They’d only touched the tip of the iceberg of the mess in his head, but somehow he still felt a little lighter in the mornings. He felt a little more awake, more present. He kissed Aaron more, sang to Seb. Robert just fit a little better in his own life, his family, his marriage. It felt good.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Therese smiled, sincerity pouring from her eyes. “You’ve made so much progress already.”

Robert didn’t know about that, he felt better inside but therapy was work, and he hadn’t done enough yet to call it progress. He kept that to himself though, and just smiled at his counselor.

“Today—unless you have something else you’d like to speak about—I was wondering if you can tell me more about when you left the village.” And just like that, Robert’s good mood evaporated. He considered changing the subject to something else, anything else, but he shook that thought away. After Therese asked, Robert’d be thinking about it all day anyway, so he might as well try to make something productive out of it.

“What do you want to know? I wanted to leave anyway, then Dad threw me out, and I went.” His voice had half the bite it would have a few months earlier, and Robert had to take that as a victory. Otherwise he’d tear his hair out. He could talk about so much with his counselor now, but a dozen words about that one day and Robert's throat closed up. 

“Could you tell me a little about why you wanted to leave?”

“I just couldn’t stand it anymore. That stupid little village. It was suffocating me.” Katie had left too, but Robert wasn’t nearly ready to bring up her name.

“Is that how you feel about Emmerdale now?” Robert hadn’t really thought that way, not for a long time. When Lawrence had dragged him back, Lawrence had known exactly what it would do to Robert. In those early days, Robert felt like he was crawling out of his skin. Everyone was exactly where they used to be, or if they weren’t it didn’t matter. They all had that same look on their faces every time they saw him. The same judgment, the same disdain. It was just the same as before. Just with one face missing.

“When I first came back, yeah. Now I don’t.”

“What do you think changed between then and now?”

“Aaron,” he answered immediately. “And Liv and Seb, and more on the way if we have anything to say about it.”

“You have a family now.”

“Yeah. Not that I didn’t have family before with Vic, and Diane even but it isn’t the same.”

“No, it doesn’t sound like it is. It seems from what you’ve said to me that you can really depend on Aaron.” God, was Robert lucky to have Aaron. Robert finally felt comfortable enough now to come to his appointments alone, but he couldn’t have gotten through the first sessions without his husband. Or before, when Rebecca was missing and Robert’s head was all over the place. Aaron had been at his side every moment he could, insisting that Robert eat and sleep and take care of himself. It was Aaron, too, that made life bearable when Rebecca took Seb away, and suddenly they were only seeing their son on weekends. Aaron was there when Robert was at his very worst, obsessed for months over the monster that hurt Vic. His husband put their surrogacy plans on pause purely to help Vic through the worst of it. It was Aaron, in the end, Aaron and their family and the hope of another little one that snapped Robert out of his rage. Vic deserved better too than Robert stampeding all over her trauma in his anger. But it was Aaron’s face that held Robert back in the depths of his hatred, day after day until another woman came forward and landed Lee in the only place he belonged.

Robert had never come so close to his own destruction as he had in those months—and that meant a lot considering the rest the life he’d lived. Without Aaron, Robert wouldn’t have survived it, he knew.

“That’s a powerful thing,” Therese replied, “It’s so important to have that kind of support structure. People you know you can rely on when times get hard. Did you have that kind of support network the last time you lived in the village?”

“Not so much. I had family, I had Dad and Diane and Vic and Andy I know. But Vic was little, and Andy was—Andy. And Dad…I guess I had a lot of family there, but I didn’t really feel there was anybody there for me. I sound about five, but that’s the truth.”

“You don’t sound five. That's what you need at five or thirty-five. We all need someone to be there for us. Whatever the relationship,” she reassured.

That gave him the strength to carry on, “It felt awful, honestly. They were my family, but I always felt on the outside of them somehow. Like I was standing out in the cold and Andy was always warming his muddy boots by the fire. Andy, not even his real son.”

“Alright, I need to stop you there. We’re going to need to talk about adoption, if not today then sometime soon alright? I don't want to derail the conversation but we need to talk about this.”

That Robert understood. It didn’t feel good, hearing it said like that. Like Robert had some issue with adopted kids. He was adopted, after all, or near as. He and his mum were family, more than anyone else in the world. His child might be adopted one day, too, and Liv wasn’t his blood. It wasn’t about that with Andy, not really, but maybe it was time to leave his ‘real son’ status behind. It never mattered anyway. His dad never cared about that. To Jack, Andy was more of a son than Robert ever could be. And that was something Robert didn’t know to move past. But there would be time for that conversation.

“So you felt like you were on the outside looking in. Was that because of actions or words directed at you? _A cold gaze watching him over the kitchen table. A rough hand grasping his arm. Cutting words sharp and deadly: never forget, you ruin everything you touch. Your mother's not here to protect you anymore._

“Both, really. And it wasn’t just what Dad would do and say to me, it was what he didn’t say to Andy or Vic. What Dad would give up to keep them happy he’d never have done for me. Like, Dad lied for years about Mum. He would’ve gone to prison just to protect Andy over killing our mother. He’d have never done that for me.” _He didn’t. When it was me, he sent me away._

“Andy actually shot my dad once, did I ever tell you that?” Therese shook her head. “Andy was trying to shoot me, but he got my dad instead. Dad was a little cross with him for awhile, but he came around of course. For Andy. And Diane decided it was all my fault, since I’d practically made Andy do it,” Robert explained, the words dripping with sarcasm. “I stole his wife, so Angel Andy grabbed his shotgun.” Worse than the knowledge that Andy wanted him dead was the terror Robert had felt putting pressure on his father’s chest, begging him to live. All of that pain Andy’d caused, and yet he was back in the bosom of the family months later. Because their dad loved Andy, no matter what. He couldn’t say the same for Robert.

For years after his dad sent him away, a part of Robert still hoped he’d call. The little child who had sat on his father’s shoulders and believed his parents would always be there for him still lived on in the smallest corner of Robert’s mind. And that child refused to believe that he’d never speak to his father again. It couldn’t be the last time. Those words, _I don’t hate you, Robert_ , they couldn’t be the end. They just couldn’t. But the years went by, Christmases and birthdays and anniversaries. And the phone didn’t ring. Robert would speak to Vic once in a while, and a few times he could even hear his dad in the background, gruff and loving, in a voice Robert would never hear spoken to him again.

“He could forgive Andy anything. Dad would’ve done anything for him and Vic. That’s what he was like when he loved someone. Not me though. I guess he never loved me like that. Maybe he did when I was a baby. But things changed so fast when I was still little. Maybe eight or nine, I’m not sure.” Robert remembered watching his dad’s eyes darken, the way the once laid-back man screamed and cursed, ceramic smashing on tile. He remembered that choked-off growl, so much worse than yelling, that meant his dad was holding onto his temper with a single string. And when that string snapped…”

“He was never like that with Vic and Andy. I just don’t get it. I’ve run it over and over in my mind, and I just don’t understand—”

“What did I do to make him stop loving me?”

**Author's Note:**

> So far Robert's literally just convincing himself he deserves therapy lol but it's a huge step. And super hard for people who have convinced themselves they don't need help like Robert has for so many years. And having a dad like that didn't help.


End file.
